WARINING: REFERENCES TO ABUSE, VIOLENCE AND SELF-INJURY. (Chapter might not be suitable for younger readers.)

Chapter seven: Horrors of the past

"Fine Potter," He hissed with a malicious glint in his eyes. "I'll tell you about my childhood, about my father, and about what I am hiding."

Harry's mouth opened to retort then upon registering Draco's words his jaw dropped.

"You-you will?" He asked. Draco inwardly smirked. He knew that Harry had probably expected Draco to tell him to bugger off, or to say something other than a yes.

"Yes, Harry, I will." He smiled in a way he hoped was innocent. "Just not now."

Harry looked at him for a minute before his face reddened.

"Merlin Malfoy! You are infuriating!" Harry growled.

"Do you know how cute you are when you pout?" Draco cooed at the raven-haired boy and dodged the pillow that flew at him.

"I hate having my words thrown back at me," Harry mumbled intensifying his pout.

"Wow, I didn't know that about you, Potter. I am learning so much today, about you, about me." He mocked and gave a fake sniffle. "We are growing so close."

Draco laughter was cut off as the other boy lunged at him. Unable to hold the sudden weight, Draco fell to the floor with Harry on top of him. The Gryffindor quickly pinned both of Draco's hands above the blonde's head.

"Kinky, are we?" Draco waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Harry's already flush face deepened in color.

"Oh, bugger off." Harry mumbled.

"You'd like that wouldn't you." Draco smirked and wetted his lips seductively. Harry, if at all possible, blushed even deeper. "Merlin Potter, how are you even alive right now? All your blood is in your cheeks." Draco exclaimed.

Harry didn't respond. In fact he seemed to be lost in thought. Draco decided he had enough of this game and began to wiggle underneath the other boy trying to break free. Harry gasped at the sudden movement beneath him. His gasp turned to a low groan as Draco inadvertently caused friction between them.

While Harry was preoccupied, Draco suddenly used a burst of energy and strength and caused himself and the slightly bigger boy to roll. Now, Draco was on top, but Harry still had a hold on his wrist.

"Bit of a masochist are we, Potter? Am I going to stumble upon any whips, chains and a pair of leather trousers?" Draco asked amused and shoving the image of Harry in a pair of leather trousers from his mind. "You should have informed me of this a month ago when I arrived. Well, I've been abused too often in my life. I wont stand for it in the bedroom." He chuckled a bit at his joke.

Beneath him, Harry's eyes widen.

"Y-you were abused?" His voice was soft and trembling. Draco's smile quickly slid off his face.

"Ah, well enough fun for one day. Best get some sleep. I do believe we start physical training tomorrow. Must be up to par." He mumbled quickly standing up followed by Harry who still hadn't let go of his wrist.

Draco tried to get his wrist free but Harry just tightened his grip.

"Draco?" Harry called trying to make eye contact with the Slytherin who looked everywhere but at Harry. "Draco? Were you abused?"

Draco struggled to get away from Harry with renewed vigor, but the raven-haired boy held firm.

"Draco, answer me, dammit!" Harry yelled. Draco ignored him and continued to pull. He tried and tried to get free but he couldn't. He couldn't get away.

Suddenly Draco was no longer in Harry's bedroom but in his father's study in Malfoy Manor.

"You have displeased me for the last time, Draco," His father hissed coldly.

"I am sorry, father." Draco said gritting his teeth. He knew what was coming, he knew it would hurt but he would not beg. Draco would never beg for mercy from that man again. It never did him any good, just made him hate himself all the more.

Lucius Malfoy made his way from behind the large oak desk and he circled around the fifteen-year old Draco.

"You are a Malfoy. Does that mean nothing to you?" His father questioned.

"It means everything, father." He intoned. Liar a small voice at the back of his mind muttered.

"You are a Malfoy by looks and name alone." The older man snarled. "You do not have the spirit of a Malfoy, nor the heart."

"I wasn't aware Malfoys had hearts," Draco deadpanned not thinking about what he was saying. A loud smack echoed through the room as Draco paid for his defiance.

"You insolent little child." His father hissed. "You shall pay for displeasing me, in blood."

His father stepped in front of him, his back to his desk and he looked down at his son. His lips curled into a sadistic smile. He raised his wand and aimed it at the boy. At his son, his heir, his own flesh and blood.

"Crucio!" He called and laughed as Draco screamed as his body was ripped apart by pain. There's little from that night that Draco remembered, but then again he hardly ever remembered much from these sessions. He had woken the next morning – much to his disappointment- bloodied and broken.

A house-elf quickly arrived to heal Draco's wounds. As his father said Draco was only a Malfoy through name and looks alone. Since his father could not 'train' Draco into having the Malfoy 'heart', though not from lack of trying, he made sure that Draco at least looked the part of a Malfoy.

After each…punishment, training session, lesson or whatever his father decided to call the torture, a house-elf appeared and made sure Draco had no horrible scars to mar his beautiful skin.

Draco hated the man the most for that, above all else. During his younger years Draco had been grateful for the preventions of scarring but now he realized it was just another thing his father used to have control over him.

Without those ugly reminders Draco could easily fool himself into believing he was not the ugly and horrid creature that he was. He had come to the realization after he skinned his knee during the summer after his father had gone to jail.

He chose to let it heal naturally and he now had a thin line of white puckered up skin to show for it. An eternal reminder of a less-than-graceful moment in his life. However Draco's skin was no longer smooth unblemished marble.

He had taken it upon himself to re-engrave those years of torment into his flesh. He made sure it became as ugly as he was. He did what he could to rid himself off one of two of his ties to the Malfoy name. He was no longer the picture of protection as the Malfoy's are meant to be. Yes, to anyone passing him by in the corridors of school he looked no different but if you were privy enough to see him without his school robes and long-sleeved shirt or pants than you would see them.

Scars everywhere. He tore his heart open and sewed himself shut just to feel. He was floundering in darkness after his father was imprisoned and his mother broke down. It was an act of release, defiance and ultimately control.

He had been in control of his pain. He spilt his own blood. He was at his own mercy.

Draco used self-injury to cope. He didn't know what else to do. The first time it happened was after picking his mother up from a pub for the third time in one week. He had flown into a blind rage.

So much hatred for the man who called himself his father. It was because of him that his beloved mother was drinking herself into damnation. He had made a mockery of the once powerful name of Malfoy.

Draco had been in his bathroom brushing his hair and teeth, after a shower, before bed. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked so much like that vile man and he hated it. Draco didn't know what had come over him but suddenly his mirror was shattered and shards of glass twinkled up at him from the floor and blood was pouring from the lacerations on his hand.

He had stared at the blood. Blood. His father had staked so much on this liquid that was now pooling at his feet. His father had destroyed himself for the sake of what? Blood? Blood was often thrown about carelessly masquerading as something of importance. The warm red fluid held him with a morbid fascination.

It was these thoughts that had led him to becoming part of the Order. He had promised himself that he would bring honor back to his family name. Even if he had to work with Dumbledore and Potter to do it. The name Malfoy would once more hold more than contempt in the Wizarding world. His father had been the traitor. Not Draco.

Draco repaired the mirror with a quick spell but he had already sworn off healing spells so he just stuck his hand under cold water. He hissed in pain but a small part of his brain told him that it meant he was real.

That he was human. And that meant more to Draco than he could ever guess. He was human.

It wasn't until a week later that Draco had thought more about the incident. As he looked at the slowly healing cuts on his hand a voice told him that he had done that. Not his father or a rival. But he, Draco, had done it, to himself. He caused his own pain. No one else.

To Draco this had put the control back into his hands.

It quickly became a regular occurrence for Draco. Whenever things grew tough and he needed a release or a reminder he would shut himself into his bathroom and he would cleanse himself in his own blood.

Draco never thought about suicide. He made sure that the cuts were shallow. Just enough to bleed. That was all that he need. His father staked so much on blood. On Malfoy blood. And now Draco was letting it flow freely.

Draco never let himself think too much about what he did or why, just about how it made him feel. He felt calm, collected, and in control afterwards. All in all it made things better. But it didn't last forever. And those scars had all but faded by now.

Draco was suddenly wretched out of his memories. He opened his eyes to find a pair of green orbs full of concern, watching him. He felt something warm and wet slid down his cheek and he knew it was tears.

His wrists were still held by Harry so he couldn't wipe it away even if he wanted to which at the moment he didn't. He knew that had it been a month ago he would've died if Harry had seen him crying. But now things were different. They were different.

"Draco?" Harry asked uncertain.

"Don't, Harry. Please, just don't." Draco moaned pitifully. He was crumbling fast and he needed to stop it before he fell apart completely.

"But, Draco-"Harry started.

"No, Harry. Please don't ask me again. I-I can't. Not now, n-not yet." Draco pleaded. Harry looked at him with commiseration

"Ok Draco. You don't have to tell me now, but you will tell me eventually." Harry said letting go of the blonde boy's wrist. Draco nodded rubbing his wrist. He moved away from the dark-haired boy.

Harry moved away from him and sat at his desk. Pulling out his notebook he began to write. Draco sighed. He moved over toward the bed and quickly changed into a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.

He lifted his bare forearms up to his face and examined the pale flesh. If he looked close enough he just barely make out the patterns of months past. The patterns of hurt, pain and loneliness. Draco gave and involuntary shutter at the memories.

He dropped his arms and slid under the light sheet on Harry's bed. Lying on his back staring at the ceiling, one more question came to him.

"Harry?" He called and continued when he got an 'hmm?' in response. "Why didn't you shake my hand back in that robe shop in Diagon Alley six years ago?" He asked.

He held his breath as he awaited an answer. After what seemed like forever Harry finally answered him.

"I don't know," He said in a way that told Draco that he truly didn't know. Draco nodded.

"Ok," he said and turning onto his side. "Night, Harry."

"Good Night, Draco."

Draco was pulled from a dreamless sleep by screams. At first he was confused. Maybe he was dreaming. Merlin knows that enough of his dreams contained screaming. But the sounds didn't seem to be coming from somewhere in his mind. It was from outside.

Draco opened his eyes. Darkness. After a few moments his eyes adjusted enough to make out his surroundings. He was in Harry's bedroom, and the screams?

From somewhere to his right Draco heard a voice crying out.

"No, please, no!"

"SIRIUS!"

"Oh Merlin, No. Not them, no please."

Then a blood-freezing scream ripped through the stale summer air. Draco quickly shot up and was on his feet, wand in hand.

"Lumos," His wand tip glowed casting a three-foot circle of light around him. He moved toward the pained cries. He came to Harry's desk. His wand sent shadows playing across the Gryffindor's face.

Harry was hunched over his desk, his head resting on an open potions book and he was facing Draco. His featured were twisted and contorted in pain and anguish as he mutter and then let lose another scream. Draco couldn't take it anymore. He had heard that it was dangerous to wake someone who was having a night terror, but he had to do something.

"Harry," he said shaking the other boy. "Harry!"

It had no effect in waking Harry up. In fact it seemed to send him deeper into the nightmare. He began to thrash around widely.

"Harry, Harry, it's me. It's Draco." He cried as he desperately tried to grab the failing limbs to save Harry from any self-inflicted injury. His wand clattered out of his hand and fell to the floor where it rolled a few inches away. Fortunately, it was close enough to still cast enough light for Draco to see.

Draco now had both of Harry's wrist secured in his hands.

"Harry!" He shouted and groaned in pain as one of Harry's elbows hit him in the side. "POTTER, WAKE UP DAMMIT!" He roared.

Suddenly Harry's trashing stopped. His lids opened to reveal green eyes full of unshed tears and pain.

"Draco?" He whispered hoarsely. Draco sighed in relief.

"Yes, Harry, it's me," He was shocked when, for the second time that night, Harry threw himself at the blonde, but this time instead of attacking the boy, he clung to him.

Harry began to sob into Draco's chest. Draco's hands immediately went around the Gryffindor. He stroked Harry's back and whispered comforting words.

"Hush, Harry. Everything's all right." He whispered into his ear. After a few minutes Harry's sobs lessened. Harry lifted his head. His gaze met Draco's before the dark-haired boy quickly looked away. He sniffled and his cheeks were tinted pink from embarrassment.

"Sorry," He mumbled stepping away from the blonde. Draco smiled and grabbed the other boy and pulled him into his embrace.

"Nothing to apologize for," He whispered into Harry's ear as his long and elegant fingers drew patterns on his back. Harry quickly relaxed under Draco's touch. He allowed the Slytherin to hold him for a while before pulling away again.

"Thank-you," He whispered, still embarrassed. Draco ignored the thanks.

"Is that why you don't sleep? Nightmares?" Draco asked and Harry blushed to a red and nodded. Draco cocked his head and looked at the boy before turning on his heels to his trunk. Throwing open the lid and rummaging through it for a while until he found what he was looking for.

He came back to where Harry was standing and placed a small vial of deep purple liquid into his hand. Harry looked at Draco then at the vial and then back again, questions swimming in his eyes.

"It's a Dreamless Sleep Potion. I brew it myself. I have nightmares too." Draco explained. Harry stared at the blonde. Draco could see he desperately wanted to ask him why he had nightmare and what they were about but he respected Draco's wish not to talk about it.

He instead just nodded and looked back at the potion in his hand. Draco watched him in silence for a minute.

"Well, go on. Take it. I promise it won't kill you." Draco laughed and Harry smiled a bit.

"It'd be good to sleep," was all Harry said.

"Then take it. Even heroes need sleep." Draco said softly. "I'll even let you share the bed with me."

Harry looked up at him.

"Share? But it's my bed." Harry said.

"Yeah well you said I could have it, remember? Besides, Malfoys do not sleep on the floor." Draco smirked and Harry responded with one of his own.

"Ok Draco. I will trust you not to kill me with this potion and I will trust that you won't try to have your wicked way with me." Harry said pulling the cork out of the vial and with a mock-toast to Draco he downed it. "Still breathing. That's a good sigh." Harry said fighting a yawn.

"Oh shut up and get into bed before you pass out on the floor. I will not carry your arse." Draco snapped in mock-annoyance. He pointed his wand at the bed. "Engorgio."

Harry's bed grew from a twin to a massive king that took up most of his room.

"Yes, sir." Harry said saluting the blonde and crawled into the bed. Draco walked around to the left side and slid in with him downing a small dose of Dreamless Sleep as well and with in moments both boys were fast asleep.

(A/n: this line is from scars by Papa Roach. I was listening to it while writing this chapter and thought it fit.

A/n 2: Ok, I know this chapter got a bit intense there with Draco's memory and I warn you now there's more in the future but I will try (keyword here) to keep it to a minimal. I hope I didn't offend. I know that SI is a serious issue. I have family members as well as a brief spell of it myself and it is about all the things Draco expresses and more. Please do not think I am say anything against any of the readers who might be struggling with this. I know what it's like.

this reminds me of Lilo and Stitch with Nani and Lilo but I promise I didn't plan it that way)